Nine years, ten months, and six days after the Battle of Yavin…
Or forty-four years, ten months, and six days after the Great Resynchronization.
(Five months and twenty-six days since the arrival).
Inside, as outside, the Great Jedi Library was constructed from large stone blocks, clearly of volcanic origin.
And, as befitted a structure of such size, its interior spaces were truly immense.
Once.
Now, it was merely ruins.
Once-spacious corridors were now littered with debris from collapsed columns, chunks of plaster, stones, and dust…
Dust…
So much dust.
The place was steeped in decay — even the powerful lanterns barely pierced the gloom.
And even then, they only served to reveal endless cobwebs and old blockages in the path of the travelers.
However, such obstacles were rare.
So rare that Irenez began to suspect that the Jedi Knight walking beside her, almost skipping with energy, could see in the dark.
— This way, — Luke tugged at her sleeve, preventing her from stepping into a cleared passage and instead leading her toward a pile of rubble where no sane person would venture.
But a Jedi would.
With each meter traversed, with each corridor left behind, Skywalker grew increasingly withdrawn.
He was mostly silent, as if listening to something.
Perhaps it was the Force…
Fortunately, her concerns about the passage proved unfounded — Luke used the Force to move the boulders aside, revealing a well-preserved arched doorway.
Well, almost well-preserved.
The entrance arch had partially collapsed, and the passage was blocked by stone slabs half the height of a human.
But most of the passage was clear.
— It feels like no one's been here for a million years, — Irenez muttered, forced to crawl on all fours to squeeze through the narrow gap.
— A few thousand years, at least, — Skywalker replied. — I… saw how this planet died.
— You don't seem that old, — Irenez joked.
— Oh, — Skywalker started to retort but clumsily raised his head and bumped into the remnants of the arch. — I didn't see it personally… The Force showed me.
— Is that why you were screaming back in the cave? — the Corellian asked.
— Not only that, — the Jedi declared. — The Force sometimes shows many possible futures… I've seen too much.
— Really? — the woman grew curious. — And what awaits us?
— Pain, — the young Jedi said grimly. — A lot of pain. Endless conflicts. I didn't see peace in our future…
The woman fell silent — at that moment, they reached the end of the passage and emerged into a spacious hall.
Here, some faded drawings still clung to the walls, and mosaics adorned the floor…
— Someone's been here, — Irenez drew her blaster from its holster.
— I know, — the Jedi replied, brushing dust and cobwebs from his pants. — Something happening here, in this Library, threatens the very return of the Jedi to the galaxy.
— Your words are making me uneasy, — the woman shivered.
— Me too, — the Jedi said seriously, scanning the surroundings. — We need to go there.
He pointed to a far corner of the hall, where the darkness was deepest.
Irenez felt a chill run down her spine.
Something sinister emanated from that direction.
— Are you sure? — she asked.
— Yes, — the Jedi said firmly. — I feel it… The Force itself is guiding me.
The Corellian wanted to ask who exactly this direction was right for but decided to hold her tongue.
After all, nothing bad had happened yet.
Ten minutes later, after wandering through more corridors, she realized she had a question:
— There's no dust here at all, — she noted. — Sentients use this part of the building.
— Yes, — Luke agreed. — I… sense them. Two of them.
The woman swept her lantern around and shook her head.
— Unless they're master cleaners, it's highly unlikely there's just a pair…
She stopped short.
— Wait… If you can sense them, does that mean they're like you?
— Jedi can sense all living beings, — Skywalker explained. — It's hard to describe, but I can sense you too. And any other sentient.
— Well, then I'm reassured, — Irenez sighed. — Two ordinary people we can definitely handle.
— I didn't say they were ordinary sentients, — Luke countered, dampening Irenez's mood. — But they're not Jedi either.
His next words left the Corellian utterly confused:
— If they're not ordinary sentients, not Jedi, then who? — she whispered, spotting flickers of light in the distance of another corridor. Likely torches… in a very large room, judging by the voices of two men.
— I'm afraid they're fallen Jedi, like ones I've faced before, — Luke said grimly. — The same skills, but their intentions… clearly not for the greater good.
The Corellian silently switched her blaster's fire selector from stun to lethal.
Skywalker shot her a warning glance, intending to comment, but…
He chose to remain silent.
A battle awaited them ahead.
***
A faint sound of footsteps intruded on the sentient's consciousness, pulling him away from listening to the holocron's gatekeeper.
The soft crackling of torches dispelling the darkness had become nearly indistinguishable, blending into a cacophony of sounds.
— I've packed the historical manuscripts, Master, — Travgen said, addressing Eymand.
The Zabrak sat before a small white-blue cube, glowing softly from within with the warmth of the Light Side of the Force.
In a meditative pose, he had spent long days, pausing only to oversee the efforts of Travgen, a redeemed Jedi Knight who had fallen to the Dark Side, and the loyal local Ysanna, preparing to transport ancient Jedi Order artifacts.
— Good, — Eymand rasped.
— You need to drink, Master, — the man said, offering the Jedi a flask of life-giving liquid.
The Zabrak nodded gratefully, taking the flask and drinking deeply.
His thoughts, freed from the depths of history and knowledge he had explored, now focused on the man standing beside him.
Force-sensitive, Travgen had trained in the Jedi Order during its final years.
He earned the rank of Jedi Knight by the time the Clone Wars erupted between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
Eymand's former apprentice, also a Jedi scholar, did not participate directly in the conflict, continuing his historical and scientific pursuits.
His name was absent from the newly formed Empire's reports — meaning, nearly thirty years ago, it was clear he had escaped death.
As it turned out, he survived and came here, to Ossus.
And fell to the Dark Side, subjugating several tribes of Ysanna — descendants of Jedi who survived the catastrophe thousands of years ago.
To think — nearly four thousand years had passed since the fallen Jedi Exar Kun triggered a supernova in a nearby star cluster, effectively wiping out all life on the planet. Yet, some survived.
For some reason, the numerous Jedi and archaeological expeditions that visited Ossus over the years failed to establish contact with them. The Ysanna simply hid, perpetuating the rumor that nothing lived on Ossus.
Wandering the galaxy, Travgen discovered the ancient Jedi stronghold planet of Ossus, where he settled. With his superior mastery of the Force, Travgen easily took control of several local Ysanna tribes, the planet's native inhabitants. As their ruler, torn between a thirst for power and the echoes of Jedi duty, he took it upon himself to protect the ruins of the Great Jedi Library.
When Eymand arrived on Ossus, he confronted Travgen, who was reveling in his power.
And defeated his former apprentice.
And learned the story of his fall.
And, on behalf of all Jedi, forgave the man who had strayed.
For countless days, they wandered the halls of the Great Jedi Library, retrieving ancient manuscripts, data crystals, holocrons, lightsabers, engravings, and relics…
All of this was to become part of the Jenssarai Order, of which Eymand was now a member.
— You're exhausted, Master, — Travgen said.
— This holocron, — the Zabrak pointed to the glowing cube, — contains a great deal of information.
— I couldn't open a single one, — Travgen said with a guilty smile.
— The gatekeepers didn't want to share knowledge with you, knowing you were susceptible to the Dark Side's influence? — Eymand asked.
The man shook his head.
— Perhaps, — he said uncertainly. — But… I was just afraid of damaging them. I tried so hard to restrain my uncontrolled thirst for power, to avoid crossing the line. I was horrified every time I thought I might extract their knowledge, become powerful, and order their destruction to keep their secrets from others.
Travgen was not skilled in Force manipulation or lightsaber combat.
Yet, he possessed a rare gift of rational thinking.
The temptation to seize ancient Jedi secrets could indeed awaken selfish desires in someone driven by the Dark Side to destroy the original data repositories. Such things had happened before, so the man's fears were understandable.
— You did well to preserve this for posterity, — Eymand said, feeling sensation return to his stiff limbs. — The knowledge you guarded will mark a new milestone in the Jenssarai Order's formation…
— The Jedi? — Travgen asked timidly, almost childlike.
The Zabrak shook his head.
— I'm afraid not, my friend, — he said. — I would give much to go back and show Yoda, Windu, and the other Masters the wonders and ancient archives we found here. Perhaps it could have helped the Jedi survive the catastrophe, to change… Oh, how many mistakes could have been corrected if we had possessed these treasures before.
— Is it that serious? — Travgen blinked.
— This, — Eymand pointed again at the data storage device, — is a holocron created by Grand Master Biel Ductavis, leader of the Jedi Order. He also served as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic after the Pius Dea Crusades.
— It's over eleven thousand years old? — Travgen gasped in awe.
Eymand gave a faint smile.
His apprentice was always drawn to history, genuinely marveling at the lives and achievements of sentients in the distant past.
— Exactly, — Eymand confirmed. — It contains information about the ancient history of the Galactic Republic. Much of what is recorded in modern historical chronicles is either inaccurate or incomplete. This holocron can answer many questions, shed light on the Jedi's misconceptions about attachments and more. But there's something even more important…
— What could be more important than establishing objective truth, Master? — Travgen asked warily.
— Rediscovering the forgotten, — Eymand explained. — It contains, albeit vague, coordinates in different systems and complex formulas, but… we can rediscover many planets visited by ancient Jedi and their predecessors — the Je'daii!
— Tython? — Travgen gasped, recalling the homeworld of the Jedi's precursors.
— And not only that, — Eymand declared. — Had Abaddon, Lettow… Dozens, if not hundreds, of worlds and moons forgotten by history but preserved here. Great knowledge and wisdom of past generations. Explanations of simple truths that led thousands of Jedi to the Dark Side… We distorted everything, — the Zabrak said bitterly, looking at the holocron. — Millennia of lies and misconceptions… How many Jedi became Sith because they couldn't control their emotions? How many tragedies occurred, how many great Jedi did we lose because of the ban on marriage? The ancient Jedi had no such restrictions. Do you remember how the Order mocked and dismissed as false the hypotheses that the Je'daii controlled both sides of the Force?
— Many who held that view fled the Order, — Travgen said sadly. — Because they couldn't substantiate their findings, based on contradictory and unreliable sources…
— Here is a source that's hard to dispute, — Eymand said grimly, pointing at the holocron. — As paradoxical as it sounds, the ancient Jedi weren't forbidden attachments or families… Biel Ductavis's holocron even describes an ancient Jedi marriage ceremony…
Travgen shook his head:
— The Jedi have changed drastically over the years.
— And knowing our past can help them become what they were before multiple upheavals altered us, — Eymand said. — The Jenssarai use the Dark Side, among other things, to do good, to protect sentients… To think — those considered a radical sect in the final years of the Galactic Republic are far closer to the original Jedi than we, the last of the Old Order… And there are other Jedi factions and movements that partially interpret ancient truths and traditions without falling to the Dark Side. Corellian Jedi, Almas Jedi, Altisians… Imagine how much stronger the Order could become, how quickly we could overcome crises, if we gained control over the ancient knowledge of those who once ruled the Republic…
— Master, — Travgen said softly. — But that means…
— Yes, — Eymand said with sadness and sorrow. — As hard as it sounds, in the form we knew it, the Jedi Order must come to an end…
— I won't allow it! — a young, unfamiliar voice rang out, full of strength and unwavering belief in its own righteousness. — The Jedi will live!
At the far end of the once-library hall, both former Jedi could see a man in his middle years, dressed in dark robes strikingly similar to the Jedi garments of old.
Together with his companion, he stood at the threshold of a previously unused corridor, collapsed by a fallen ceiling.
And they clearly hadn't come to negotiate, judging by the lightsaber hilt clutched in the man's hand and the blaster pistol in his companion's possession.
One glance at the newcomer was enough to know who stood before the former Jedi.
Eymand had long sensed the approach of an inevitable reckoning for his journey.
The Force presents many trials to its followers, testing the strength of their beliefs and convictions.
Including self-sacrifice, the readiness to go to the end for their aspirations.
This holds true, oddly enough, for all teachings of the Force.
For Jedi, as well as Sith…
And for those who view the Force differently.
Like the Jenssarai, to which Travgen and Eymand now belonged…
— Who are you, and why have you violated the sanctity of this place?! — Travgen demanded, barely containing his fury.
Eymand rose to his feet, letting the Force flow through him to invigorate his body and prepare for the inevitable battle.
A battle not for the lives of those present, but for the future of the Jenssarai Order as the true heirs of the ancient Jedi.
The real Jedi.
— I am Luke Skywalker, — the young man introduced himself, his gaze fixed on both Jenssarai. — Jedi Knight! And the Jedi's legacy will not serve those who intend to wield the Dark Side.
— The ancient Jedi used it, — Eymand said calmly. — This holocron, — he pointed to the now-dim blue cube, — is direct and irrefutable proof. The Jedi lost much of their knowledge and wander in darkness.
— That's exactly why I'm here, — the descendant of Darth Vader declared. — To ensure the Jedi's knowledge doesn't fall into the wrong hands.
— And who appointed you the seeker of the Jedi legacy? — Travgen asked, his voice ringing with fury.
Eymand placed a hand on his former apprentice's shoulder.
The fallen Jedi looked at his master, and in his eyes, Eymand saw understanding.
Yes, Travgen knew exactly whose descendant stood before them.
And the pain of losing all those Jedi killed by Anakin Skywalker, later Darth Vader, now spoke through the fallen Jedi scholar.
— I… — Skywalker hesitated. — I don't think we need to fight over this. Any disputes or conflicts can be resolved peacefully, through negotiation.
— Really? — Eymand asked. — Did your father, succumbing to the Dark Side, negotiate when he slaughtered Jedi in the Temple on Coruscant? Or perhaps he negotiated when he executed younglings, killing innocent children who didn't even see him as an enemy?
— I… — Skywalker faltered, glancing at his companion as if seeking support.
— You can call yourself a Jedi Knight all you want, heir of Darth Vader, — Eymand said. — But who gave you the right to do so? Your master? Or the High Council of the Order?
— No, — Luke's face darkened, and the shadows cast by the torches turned his expression into a mask of shame and uncertainty. — Both Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda died before I faced my father and became a Jedi Knight…
— What? — Travgen exclaimed, stunned. — You think fighting a Sith makes you a Jedi?
— Yoda told me…
— The Grand Master said many things, — Eymand interrupted, striving to resolve the brewing conflict peacefully. — But the process of becoming a Jedi Knight, or a Jedi Master, is rooted in ancient traditions. You cannot call yourself a Jedi, Skywalker. You, like your father, became a Jedi only by the whim of certain Order members, nothing more.
— You knew my father? — Skywalker asked with interest. — Were you Jedi before?
Travgen snorted irritably.
— Few Jedi haven't heard of your father, — Eymand said. — And many encountered him. I witnessed him slaughtering Jedi…
— I intend to right my father's wrongs, — Skywalker declared resolutely. — The Jedi Order will be restored. The New Republic will surely help me in this.
But by the end of his statement, his voice lacked conviction.
— In the five years since the Emperor's destruction, how many Jedi have appeared in the galaxy? — Eymand asked. — How many academies or praxeums have you founded?
— They're stalling us, — the Jedi's companion said. — Luke, they're buying time. Their people are probably already here.
— I know, — Skywalker shook his blond head. — I'd love to learn from you about the Order's past. I'd like to study Jedi arts under you, but I cannot allow what you're proposing. The Dark Side must not be used by Jedi!
— But it was used! — Travgen shouted impatiently. — Not the way Sith do, but it was used! Then the Jedi forgot their roots! They weakened! Became victims of extermination!
— That's exactly why they must be restored as they were before the Emperor's interference, — Skywalker repeated stubbornly. — You believe the Jedi weakened by abandoning many ancient practices. I believe they did so deliberately to keep the Dark Side from clouding their minds. The Light Side helped me defeat my father and the Dark Side. The galaxy is descending into chaos, and only the Jedi can face the coming crises. The Order must be restored to serve the Light Side!
— And we will restore it, — Eymand said. — As it existed thousands of years ago. You're mistaken in saying the Jedi serve the Light Side. We served the Force. And the interests of a Senate that was corrupt, to put it mildly. We became pawns in someone else's game, and that won't happen again — the Order must serve the state and its people, not defend the views of senators or anyone else…
— You're talking about usurping power, — Skywalker said, disappointed. — Whether personally or serving those who oppress the people, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry, — an emerald-green lightsaber ignited in the air. — I repeat: I cannot allow Jedi knowledge to serve an unworthy cause.
— And we cannot allow ancient knowledge to fall into the hands of an untrained fool who intends to step into the same sarlacc pit! — Travgen declared. — With every new purge, the Jedi grow weaker, losing their knowledge. You're only capable of handing the Order back to ambitious corruptors to fund its restoration!
— The New Republic isn't perfect, but only democracy can give sentients what they deserve — freedom! — Eymand realized negotiation was futile.
Perhaps he was wrong to hold the son accountable for the father's sins, but… Allowing someone to turn the Jedi into blinkered servants of a Senate where every sentient pursues only their own gain, with care for the people and state as an afterthought…
No, that game had already been played.
And it led to the near-extinction of the Jedi.
— I ask you to leave, Luke Skywalker, — the Zabrak said, unclipping the hilt of his lightsaber from his belt. — No matter how this duel ends, you've already lost. The Jedi, as you wish to restore them, will not see the light.
— I don't want to fight, — the young man admitted. — But it seems there's no other choice. I won't let the Empire create its own Jedi, trained by those who see no evil in the Dark Side.
— Then we'll have to fight, — Travgen said, gripping his weapon more firmly. — You're the son of a murderer. It's not for you to decide the future of the Jedi in the galaxy!
— I won't abandon my mission! — Skywalker declared firmly.
— This must not happen, — Eymand made one final attempt to stop the inevitable, looking into the eyes of the blond heir to a family name cursed by surviving Jedi. — Just leave, and no one will be harmed.
He knew exactly who stood before them and what the heir of Darth Vader was capable of.
His overwhelming superiority in the Force was undeniable — especially to two less-than-powerful Jedi scholars.
Skywalker may be self-taught, may not have completed formal training, but he had a clear and undeniable advantage over both opponents.
The Force was always with his family.
Where they lacked grace or talent, he and his father broke through their opponents' defenses with raw, brute Force.
Even though they faced two full-fledged Jedi, neither Travgen nor Eymand had significant experience or skill in lightsaber combat.
Even the traditional Jedi weapon they carried was merely a common symbol of their affiliation with the Order.
And a tribute to traditions buried nearly thirty years ago by the one who came here.
To match the glorious legacy of past Jedi Consulars, who could tear enemies apart with the Force alone and crush armies in duels, was out of the question.
A Jedi scholar was a Jedi Consular only in name.
In reality, their ranks had long been filled with those weaker than most, unfit for active operations in the galaxy's troubled regions.
The outcome of this duel was decided long before the three Force-sensitive sentients activated their blades.
All three — green in hue.
The color of Jedi Consulars, keepers of knowledge…
But that was just a tradition long faded into oblivion.
Skywalker shook his head in response to the offer.
— I'm sorry, I can't. But I offer you the chance to leave.
— Luke, — his companion said suddenly. — They're just stalling! They've probably already surrounded us…
— So be it, — the self-proclaimed Jedi Knight said, slowly advancing toward the two Jenssarai.
— We've done all we could, Master, — Travgen whispered, uttering an unfamiliar phrase in the local dialect. — The Ysanna will hide what's prepared for transport and give it only to Dominion representatives. The ancient knowledge will never fall into the hands of the murderer's son or the New Republic.
— There's one more thing we must do, — Eymand said, opening himself to the Force with a smile of relief.
— What, Master? — Travgen asked, his eyes fixed on the approaching Skywalker.
— We need to delay him for a while, — Eymand said, ready to meet his fate. — Until those capable of ending this discussion arrive.
And the two former Jedi scholars moved to opposite sides, preparing for a battle they could not win.
They just needed to keep buying time.
***
— All three groups of Morrt project droids are stably transmitting coordinates, — Captain Pellaeon reported, handing me a datapad with the data. — The navigators are already calculating the course.
Meanwhile, the Chimaera traveled through hyperspace beyond the D'Astan sector.
— Has Grand Moff Ferrus sent a report on the defensive perimeter preparations with updates? — I inquired.
— Thirty percent complete, — Pellaeon replied. — We only have one CGT, so progress is slow. Every ship in the Dominion's defense fleet, plus available regular fleet ships, is involved. Still, we're twenty percent behind schedule, primarily due to the large-scale production of cloaking field generators.
Exactly the delay I'd been concerned about.
— Instruct the Grand Moff to prioritize major hyperspace routes, — I ordered after a moment's thought. — In ten days, the sixteenth batch of fleet technician specialists will be ready. Inform Major General Covell that the seventeenth batch should also consist of this clone type. Send orders to headquarters — all these specialists are to be dispatched to Tangrene to assist with Project Asteroid-II.
— Understood, sir, — Pellaeon replied. — We're lucky to have a large stock of hollowed-out asteroids from the Korva sector, and more keep arriving from Karthakk…
— Don't mistake planning for luck, Captain, — I advised. — Are the requested regular fleet starships ready for the operation?
— Affirmative, sir, — Pellaeon answered. — They're awaiting us at the rendezvous point.
— Any reports from the Noghri team and the Nez Peron guards regarding Baroness D'Asta's activities? — I asked.
— According to the latest report, she's still drinking, — the Chimaera's commander grimaced.
— Everyone copes with the pain of realizing they're a clone in their own way, — I shrugged. — Have we received reports from the D'Astans regarding resignations?
— Ninety-three percent, sir, — Pellaeon stated. — The rest are on ships engaged in current operations. Recalling them now would be inefficient.
— Agreed, — I nodded. — Is the company for reselling Republic equipment to the Baroness's forces operational?
— We had to bribe a few Hutt officials on Nar Shaddaa, but we secured all necessary documents. The company has already sent us an official request to purchase equipment for delivery to the Tammuz-an fleet.
— Approve it, — I ordered.
So, no delays there.
We sell outdated Clone Wars-era equipment to a front company, they sell it to Tammuz-an's king, and our agents on that planet will resell it to the Baroness's forces in the D'Astan sector.
Yes, it's not much — outdated, unmodernized equipment cluttering our warehouses (the modernized stock is needed for our planetary defense forces), but it's better than nothing.
Especially since, in terms of D'Astan's technology level, it's not much worse.
In such battles, the skill of the pilot or soldier often matters more than the equipment's age.
And in terms of ground vehicles, the D'Astan aristocracy's forces haven't advanced beyond the level of AT-TE walkers and their ilk.
— Any data from Third? — I asked.
— Yes, sir, and quite promising, — Pellaeon said. — The recipients are fully conscious, and the cognitive function testing and verification process is nearing completion. Third reports we're wasting time on unnecessary work, as the operation followed the brain-transplant methodology precisely and…
— It's for us to decide how to evaluate her work, — I interrupted. — What about the gravity well station projects?
— Progressing, but shipwright Zion asked me to remind you that our production capacity for gravity well generators is low, — Pellaeon said. — We have enough for another dozen stations, then we'll have to wait…
— Remind Shipwright Zion that producing gravity well generators is his responsibility, and he shouldn't shift blame. If industry can't keep up, he must do everything to fix it, — I said.
My thoughts swirled around a single idea that could resolve this issue quickly.
But that was a delicate conversation.
— Already reminded him, sir, — Pellaeon chuckled into his mustache. — He promised to do everything possible to keep station production uninterrupted.
Well, that man's promises can be trusted.
But they shouldn't be.
Especially when it comes to the state's defense.
— Thank you, Captain, you're dismissed. Inform me when we reach the rendezvous point.
— Yes, sir, — Pellaeon saluted before leaving my quarters.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I activated my holoprojector, selecting an encrypted channel to the only contact in the galaxy.
It took a few seconds before Grand Moff Kaine's hologram appeared.
— I was starting to worry you were upset about that scene on the Reaper, — he said with a crooked smirk.
Excellent. The code phrase was delivered with the right expression.
The conversation was secure.
— Good to see you in good health, Grand Moff, — I said. — I'll get straight to the point. I need some equipment.
Kaine narrowed his eyes:
— At this rate, I'll lose my entire fleet to the New Republic's 'raiding operations,' — he remarked.
— And that will save your subordinates' lives, — I reminded him.
Kaine let out a mock sigh.
— Can't argue with logic, — the Grand Moff said. — How can I help?
— I need all the gravity well generators from the decommissioned Immobilizer 418 cruisers at your shipyards, — I said neutrally, keeping my gaze on the hologram of the Pentastar Alignment's ruler.
Kaine processed the information for a few seconds.
Then he said:
— I'd rather have given you the Reaper, Thrawn… You'll have those generators. I was planning to clear out the junk from my warehouses and move it to a distant storage base. I think the caravan will stop in Dantooine's orbit to adjust its course…
I nodded gratefully and disconnected.
So, we can complete the interdiction stations, and we'll have a significant amount of valuable equipment.
And no small number of Vindicator-class heavy cruisers.
And a great need for interdictor cruisers…
Well, I suppose some shipyards will need to pay for overtime work in the coming weeks.
***
The moment before they burst into the torch-lit hall, both felt it was already over.
The sensation of a Jedi's death, so close, was unmistakable.
Especially when there were two.
Skilled in the ways of the Force, Ahsoka quickly discerned how to track clusters of life energy within Ossus's natural background, greatly speeding their progress.
Mara could only follow the Togruta.
And they arrived…
In a spacious hall, its walls, columns, and ceiling cracked with webs of fractures.
Just as an emerald-green lightsaber hissed back into its hilt, held by a man in dark robes.
Master Eymand's body collapsed to the floor, clutching a dim blue cube. A Jedi holocron…
A legendary repository of ancient knowledge, hunted by Darth Sidious and Darth Vader, as Mara knew.
And now, this priceless piece of information slipped from dead fingers into the hand of the killer.
— Luke! — shouted a previously unnoticed woman, opening fire with her blaster at the arriving women.
Mara coolly deflected the volley, redirecting it back at the shooter.
The woman, wounded in the leg, collapsed.
The Jedi was instantly at her side, assuming a defensive stance, ready to repel an attack.
— Give back what you took! — Mara demanded.
The Jedi didn't have time to respond.
— To the Hutt! — Ahsoka shouted, her voice full of fury, breaking into a run. — I'll take the holocron from his corpse! Stay out of it!
Mara accepted the warning not to interfere with cold professionalism.
In such a battle, only those who could work seamlessly together prevailed. Otherwise, they'd only hinder each other. So Mara, keeping her eyes on the wounded woman shielded by Skywalker, ran to Master Eymand.
The Zabrak lay on his back, muttering incoherently. Nearby, face-down, lay a middle-aged man, his face frozen in a mask of rage and focus.
Mara had no idea who he was.
A lightsaber wound was hard to discern — a microscopic cut that didn't bleed, instantly cauterized by the energy blade.
But she saw the wound — the lightsaber had struck one of the Zabrak's two hearts.
The second, according to the Force, was working overtime. The cause — a blaster burn.
Mara reached into her endless belt pouches.
The Togruta ignited both her lightsabers — a standard blade and a shoto — and attacked without preamble.
The lightsabers clashed with a crackle, as the shoto darted under the opponent's guard, slashing at his right arm.
Such a strike should have severed muscles and the radius bone, but not in this case.
An artificial prosthetic sparked and smoked, and the holocron fell.
Mara, with remarkable foresight, caught the data repository with the Force and pulled it to herself. Another volley from Skywalker's now-limping companion was deflected back at her.
But she managed to duck behind a chunk of what was once part of the ceiling.
Mara, seizing an idea, glanced upward with interest.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the ceiling above her, multiplying and connecting.
This place wouldn't hold much longer.
And that woman with the blaster was hiding too long.
Mara grabbed the Jedi by his cloak, surprised at the Zabrak's lightness, and dragged him behind a nearby column.
— Ignorance, yet knowledge, — Mara suddenly heard the Zabrak whisper, his eyes opening so abruptly she nearly jumped back.
This guy knew how to surprise.
— Good morning, — she muttered.
— You came, — he said.
— Couldn't tidy up this place? — Mara asked, applying a bacta patch to the wound. — If it weren't for the droids, we'd be running in circles through your mazes.
— Leave it, — the Zabrak placed his hand over hers, stopping her from administering the medication. — I don't have long.
— If I don't inject stimulants, you'll have even less time.
— You don't understand, — the Zabrak smiled serenely. — I… found my peace.
— Sounds more like the delirium of the dying, — Mara admitted.
— No, — he continued to smile foolishly. — You don't understand. I was there when Darth Vader killed Jedi in our Temple on Coruscant. I saw it…
— Not the best memory to dwell on, — Mara grimaced, briefly imagining the scene.
— For twenty-nine years, I tore my mind apart thinking that if I'd intervened, I could have changed something, stopped him…
— More likely, Vader would have skewered you, just like his son did now, — Mara said bluntly.
— Now I know, — the Zabrak said, closing his eyes. — Don't waste time on me, Hand of Thrawn. It's time for me to become one with the Force. I did everything I stayed alive for.
— Something tells me a certain imposing man with blue skin and red eyes will be upset if you merge with the Force here, — Mara said.
— I secured a future for the Jenssarai, — Eymand chuckled kindly. — Ancient knowledge… The locals are hiding what we found, — he placed his hand on the holocron Mara still held. — There's much here, but not everything. Return to the roots. Remember: the Jedi Code was altered. It was misunderstood and mistaught for generations…
— You've got a hole in your chest, one heart sliced to pieces, the other working like an overclocked reactor — you sure you want to talk about some mantra now? — Mara asked.
— "Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force," — the Zabrak recited, pressing her hand to the holocron. — Here lies the path to the origins. The future of the Jenssarai. The Jedi are mistaken. You must be better than us and serve the people in deed, not just words. That is the Order's true calling. Travgen and I realized this too late, but I didn't want to return with mere artifacts without understanding what they contain…
— That choice cost you your life, — Mara noted, sensing through the Force that the Zabrak was fading. And it wasn't just his overtaxed circulatory system…
— We fought and died for a just cause, — Eymand whispered, staring past her. — Never back down when truth is on your side.
Mara closed her eyes for a moment to suppress her irritation.
When she opened them, she was staring at an empty Jedi robe.
For a moment, she checked to ensure the delirious Zabrak hadn't slipped away, leaving her his worn clothing.
— Quite the trick, — she muttered, slipping the pleasantly warm holocron into a belt pouch.
Then she emerged from behind the column and finished off the blaster-wielding woman.
***
Retreating under the Togruta's onslaught, Luke felt another life extinguish and froze.
He glanced toward Irenez's cover.
Beside her body, from which a purple blade had just been withdrawn, stood a red-haired woman in a form-fitting combat suit.
An image he had seen before.
During his solitary journey to Dagobah.
This woman could have been on Jabba's sail barge on Tatooine during Han and Leia's rescue. Had she been there, the entire plan would have gone to the rancor's pit, and Luke would have ended up in the sarlacc's stomach.
But more importantly, the Force had shown him this woman, sworn to Grand Admiral Thrawn.
He got distracted and nearly missed a strike that could have cost him his life.
Thankfully, his lightsaber hilt was locked in his fingers due to a short-circuit in his right-hand prosthetic, damaged by the Togruta's attack.
— Hurts, doesn't it, watching your friend die before your eyes? — her chilling voice held nothing human.
The Togruta pressed her attack, delivering swift, gliding strikes that Luke barely blocked.
She lacked physical strength, but in swordplay, she could easily outmatch him, after giving him a thorough thrashing.
Only his connection to the Force allowed the Jedi to anticipate her strikes.
— The pain of losing Irenez won't push me to the Dark Side, — he paused and muttered softly:
— So, you're a former Jedi too…
The Togruta twirled her lightsabers, one shorter than the other, and slowly advanced.
— You know, Skywalker, I spent a lot of time understanding today's realities, — she said. — I watched you, what you do, wondering if I should join… But thanks, today you've made everything clear. A true heir to your father. Killing two weak Jedi and calling yourself a victor — oh, that's so Skywalker.
The young woman lazily dragged one blade across the stone floor, relentlessly closing the distance with the cornered Jedi.
Luke instinctively stepped back.
— You know who I am, but that knowledge isn't mutual, — he said, scanning for an escape.
But the way he came, like a hungry rancor from Jabba's palace pit on Tatooine, was guarded by the red-haired woman from his visions.
— Ahsoka Tano, — the Togruta introduced herself.
She attacked suddenly, and only through another miracle of his close Force connection did Luke avoid decapitation by her blade and a diagonal chest wound from the shorter one.
But he couldn't avoid a boot to the chest.
The Jedi flew back against the opposite wall and quickly rose.
The Togruta kept advancing.
Slowly, yet synonymous with an inevitable end for the Jedi Knight.
— Eymand was my friend and mentor, — she continued. — When the Order turned its back on me, when your father hunted Jedi, Master Eymand found me and completed my training. Just as he trained Travgen, whom you also killed. That harmless guy, — she nodded toward the fallen Jedi's body, struck down by Luke in the first seconds of the fight, — was an old friend from our youngling clan. Before your father went off the rails and became Palpatine's attack dog. Tell me, how does it feel to talk about rebuilding the Jedi Order after killing two Jedi scholars?
Skywalker gathered the Force in his left hand and unleashed it, hurling a nearby wall fragment at Tano.
The Togruta effortlessly dodged the projectile.
— I'll probably run out of patience, and your suffering will end sooner than you deserve, — she promised, continuing her advance. — I assure you, it'll be a quick death. Not like the ones your father gave other Jedi. Nor the ones my friends suffered.
— The Dark Side speaks through you, — Luke said, sensing her rage.
— I'm no Jedi to fret over controlling emotions, — the Togruta declared. — But I assure you, I'm only on the edge. Though many would love to see me fully on the Dark Side. I'll tell you more — your daddy managed to torture sentients, choke them, and pull other Dark Side tricks while still a Jedi. Then he cried like a girl when they didn't make him a Jedi Master.
— I've been through this, — Luke shook his head, recalling his duel with his father in Cloud City. — Your taunts don't affect me. You only prove the righteousness of my mission to restore an Order free of the Dark Side.
— Oh, start with yourself then, — the Togruta suggested. — You're all about Jedi values, against anything un-Jedi, right? Well, you're the product of a Jedi breaking celibacy.
Luke silently swallowed the jab.
— You're well-informed about my father's past, — the Jedi Knight noted. — Were you friends?
— His apprentice, — Ahsoka declared. — And I knew Kenobi well. And a good hundred Jedi your father killed.
— The sins of the father don't pass to the son, — Luke countered.
The distance between them grew dangerously close.
Five meters — striking range.
— Keep telling yourself that, self-proclaimed Jedi, — the Togruta bared her teeth. — Your family is strong in the Force. I'd even say it always tips the scales in your favor. It's helped you before. But today, you face a real, trained Force-user. A seasoned fighter.
— If it's not my fate to meet my end here, the Force will help me defeat you, — Luke muttered, positioning for an attack.
— The problem is, you're forgetting fencing skills, kid. But, — she shrugged almost kindly, — let's see…
Luke glanced away for a moment to deflect a blaster shot into the ceiling from the red-haired woman. She only smirked at his clumsy move.
After a brief hesitation, Luke lunged at the Togruta, but she parried instantly.
Luke added a Force push to his strike.
But Ahsoka Tano sidestepped, spun, and slashed with her blade. A flash — her lightsaber grazed his prosthetic, slicing off its outer casing.
A minor issue — the prosthetic was already dead, securely gripping his weapon.
Skywalker counterattacked, delivering powerful strikes.
She blocked them, letting his blade slide along hers. After a dozen thrusts and parries, Luke realized his mistake — relying on physical strength was draining him.
While the Togruta's efforts cost her nothing.
And that reverse grip…
Luke had never seen it — not in life, not in records. He had access to the Jedi library from the crashed Order academy ship on Dathomir, but there wasn't a word about this.
So the young Jedi shifted to conserving energy, relying more on the Force than strength.
— Almost good, little Jedi, almost, — the Togruta muttered without malice. — You learn fast.
Luke sensed danger from the left.
His blade arced downward.
At the last moment, he deciphered her feint, ducked, and leaped aside.
Backing away from the advancing Togruta, he barely dodged another strike. Continuing her assault, Ahsoka Tano swung again, and again the Jedi evaded.
Then he counterattacked.
He alternated quick and heavy strikes, hoping to catch her off-guard.
But it was impossible.
Ahsoka Tano relentlessly increased her pressure. The Jedi Knight needed all his skill and strength just to defend himself. Attacking was unthinkable.
She slashed downward; he parried, locking both weapons above, but at the last moment, she struck with her shoto.
Its tip grazed his abdomen, slicing his simple tunic and leaving a black burn on his skin.
Grimacing in pain, Luke felt the damage to his skin and a few millimeters of muscle. He retreated, instinctively pressing his free hand to the wound.
Giving him no respite, the Togruta pressed her attack.
Another complex strike followed. This time, the shoto grazed his cheek, leaving another ugly mark.
Luke realized he was hopelessly losing.
The Force and his strength let him counter one blade, but both at once…
He simply lacked the practice to split his focus.
The Jedi Knight broke the distance again, pushing off the floor and executing a backward somersault ten meters away.
As he stood, he had to deflect a thrown shoto aimed at his legs.
Calling on the Force, he timed his move, arched backward, and sliced the hilt in two with a precise strike.
Straightening, he was forced to roll aside…
Only to take a boot to the face.
From the red-haired beauty.
— What did I do to you?! — Luke groaned, retreating.
— I have a strong dislike for your family name, — she said with a smile, attacking.
This opponent was far weaker than the Togruta.
Luke saw her training, knowledge of basic and even some unfamiliar techniques, but he blocked her attempts effortlessly and struck back.
She parried with surprising ease.
Then Luke was hit as if by a speeder.
He flew across the hall but managed to twist in midair, avoiding a wall impact that could have broken his bones.
Cracks radiated from where his Force-augmented body hit the wall.
— Not bad, — the Togruta said, cutting off his retreat to the left.
— Always dreamed of slamming a Skywalker into a wall, — the red-haired woman declared.
— What's with this obsession with my name! — Luke exclaimed in frustration.
He targeted the red-haired woman as the less skilled.
He charged at her, lightsaber raised.
Her blade easily parried his, then she spun and kicked him in the back, sending him toward the Togruta.
Luke stumbled and rolled across the floor.
The Togruta kept pace with her partner, and as the Jedi tried to crawl away and stand, her blade left a long gash on his right thigh.
Crying out in pain, Luke rolled, stood, and limped back from Ahsoka Tano, cautious on his injured leg.
He held his lightsaber forward, channeling the Force to heal his wound.
— Come on, little Skywalker, — the red-haired woman's voice rang out. — Clench your Jedi values tight. Now's the time to show your strength. You still have a chance.
The Togruta attacked silently.
Luke shifted his weight to his left leg, hopping toward the massive crack in the wall.
He fended off Ahsoka Tano's feints, which she unleashed with astonishing frequency.
Was she a droid?! How could anyone move that fast?!
Luke realized he was tiring.
His wounds ached.
His breathing grew uneven.
The Force dulled the pain in his injured leg, but his left leg was nearing its limit.
In a counterattack, Luke lost his balance.
— Get up and fight, you rag, — the Togruta ordered, staying a few meters away. — Your daddy's probably spinning in the Force like a turbine, watching his son wallow in the dirt like a drunken Gamorrean.
Skywalker struggled to rise, rolling onto his stomach and pushing up with his hands.
He pulled his knees under to stand…
The Togruta's lightsaber flashed before his face with a hum, and the next moment, his weapon's emitter was severed from his paralyzed prosthetic.
Then a boot struck his chest, throwing him to the floor.
Another hit his kidneys.
Then his back.
His face.
His lips burst like overripe berries.
The next blow sparked stars in his eyes.
His jaw broke with a distinct crunch.
— Stop, — the red-haired woman's voice rang out. — He's not worth it. We'll take him to Thrawn with the artifacts. The New Republic's only Jedi will be a fine addition to the exchange pool.
— I don't care about exchanges, — the Togruta spat angrily. — This lineage deserves a lightsaber through the skull to end the horror their father unleashed.
— Killing Skywalker won't solve anything, — the red-haired woman noted. — He has a sister. And two nephews — all Force-sensitive.
— They're multiplying too! — Another blow to Luke's face was blocked by the human woman's boot.
Luke, spitting blood, rolled onto his back, staring exhaustedly at the arguing women who had given him the beating of his life.
Everything hurt.
Even the tips of his hair and fingernails.
— Cool it, Ahsoka, — the red-haired woman said, not glancing at Luke. — Eymand wouldn't have wanted this. He tried to avoid bloodshed. He sacrificed himself so we could take the knowledge, not kill this overgrown fool.
With a rancor-worthy growl, the Togruta deactivated her lightsaber and walked away.
— You carry him, — she said without looking back.
— No way, — the red-haired woman snorted, finally looking at the defeated Jedi. — Get up, rag. Time to go.
— Thank you, — Luke rasped. — I won't forget your mercy…
The woman looked at him, then at her retreating partner, and back to the fallen opponent.
— Jedi usually have short memories, — she said, clenching her right fist. — Take this to make sure you remember.
When her unusually hard fist met his face, Luke sank into long-awaited oblivion.